She felt flattered by Leotie’s desire to know her name, or more of, the reason she said she wished to know it. She grinned. Oh, you flatter me, Leotie. She offered a bashful reaction, her head dipping down softly in a nod. My name is Sienna. She’d never had a surname – it was the beliefs of the place from which she came that when a wolf came of age and could pick a mate, then they would decide their own surname… something that meant something to them. She’d played around with a couple ideas from time to time, but nothing ever stuck.
I believe that the gods are to thank for these amazing stories… I’m merely a humble messenger. Yeah, humble her ass… but Leotie didn’t need to know that, if she couldn’t see it already. She loved the rush of these stories, the reactions she drew out of others. Carlos just happened to be her favorite story to tell… what he did really depended on the day and how she was feeling… some days he was a savior… some days he was a warrior who fought off thousands of wolves at once… stories fit for cubs or stories fit for adults… all in her average day.